The Prank
by Zia Montrose
Summary: Missing Moment: "Snape had seen me crossing the grounds with Madam Pomfrey one evening... Sirius thought it would be—er—amusing to tell Snape all he had to do was prod the knot on the tree trunk with a long stick and he'd be able to get in after me..."
1. Chapter 1

**Prod the Knot**

"_Snape had seen me crossing the grounds with Madam Pomfrey one evening as she led me toward the Whomping Willow to Transform. Sirius thought it would be—er—amusing to tell Snape all he had to do was prod the knot on the tree trunk with a long stick and he'd be able to get in after me. Well, of course Snape tried it_—_but your father, who'd heard what Sirius had done, went after Snape and pulled him back, at great risk to his life… Snape glimpsed me, though, at the end of the tunnel." _

—_Prisoner of Azkaban_

…

"Five galleons says he's—"

The great oak doors cracked open and a draft of cool spring air fluttered in, interrupting Sirius's conversation with James in the two-way mirror mid-wager. He stuffed the mirror into his pocket just as Pomfrey bustled inside. There was no time for Sirius to pull himself further into the little room off the entrance hall to avoid notice, so he casually maintained his position in its doorway.

"Good evening, ma'am," he said as the nurse's eye fell upon him.

"Good evening, Mr. Black," she replied breathily, having just marched up the sloping lawns and the castle's stone steps. "Ready for your detention?"

"Five minutes?" he bartered, raising his eyebrows hopefully. "I'll be right up," he hastened to add.

Pomfrey dipped her head to peer gently-but-sternly at him. "I'll see you upstairs in five minutes then."

"Yes, ma'am." Sirius flashed a complaisant half-smile.

Pomfrey whisked past and began her ascent up the staircase, her footsteps echoing in the cavernous hall. When she reached the second landing, Sirius slipped his hand to his pocket, retrieved his mirror, and turned his back to the entry to finish his conversation with James.

James's hazel eyes peered out of the glass, blinking.

Sirius dropped his voice to a murmur. "Pomfrey. Heading back upstairs. She must've just escorted Moony to the Willow. I told her I'd be right up."

James nodded. Below the familiar thatch of black hair, his expression communicated lots of things which his voice didn't, like 'yeah, let's get this over with' and 'all right, see you in a bit' and maybe even 'wish _I_ had detention with Pomfers.'

"I'd better go," sighed Sirius.

James's mouth opened to reply just as Sirius heard the great oak doors creak open again. A breeze blew in, making the torch flames flicker in their brackets. Sirius's head whipped around. "_What the Snidget?"_ Who could it be this time? He stuffed the mirror back into his pocket.

The cloaked, insect-like figure of Severus Snape slipped surreptitiously through the gap. Upon catching sight of Sirius, his posture went rigid.

"What the hell were _you_ doing outside, Snivellus?" Sirius's eyes narrowed.

Snape's face soured and his lip curled, but he lingered close to the door, as if calculating an escape.

"I went out for _a little walk_," he mocked, eyes glittering dangerously from between shrouds of stringy black hair. "Or is Lupin the only one allowed to _rove_ the grounds at this hour?"

_Lupin? Had he seen—?_

"At the _full moon_," Snape purred.

"I warned you to stop lurking around after us, you greasy little Pogrebin!" Sirius spat. At once, he thrust a hand into his pocket, grasped the handle of his wand, and stepped forward. Snape's own hand darted into his robes.

Suddenly, the clear, sharp voice of Madam Pomfrey rang out from the upper stairwell, startling the two boys to jump in retreat: "You two had better not be at it again, or I'll have you _both_ in detention! I will _not_ tolerate _DUELING_!" She focused on the last word as if it were a sin.

Sirius thrust his nearly drawn wand back into his pocket. The matron loomed over the balustrade, cheeks sanguine.

"Um…" Sirius gave a shaky laugh. "Just practicing a little Defence, ma'am." He forced a smile.

"Just defending myself against Black!" spluttered Snape simultaneously. "He nearly—"

"A likely story!" Madam Pomfrey's cap tassel swung from back to front in agitation. "And it's time for you to start your detention, Mr. Black," she added firmly.

Normally, she showed the Gryffindor boys extra kindness for being friends to Remus, but on full moon nights, the increase in responsibilities seemed to tithe her patience.

"Yes, ma'am." Sirius cast a fettered look at Madam Pomfrey, then a fiercely wary glance at Snape, who had already begun to hunker back into the shadows. Heavily, Sirius turned to go.

"Where does the hole under the Willow go?" Severus whispered after him, like a sting.

Sirius's hackles rose like a dog facing an intruder. _'Where does the hole under the Willow go?' So the sneaky git had seen Remus with Pomfrey, then? _ Insides bared teeth. Sirius turned to regard Snape, whose eyes flickered with triumph, and Sirius was left without a doubt that he'd seen the two of them together.

"You wait, Black. I_ will_ find out. _You—just—wait_." The greasy cur seemed nearly breathless with excitement.

Sirius's veins pulsated. The two exchanged a loathsome glare while Madam Pomfrey stood waiting on the landing above. _He'd been dogging them for months… trying to find them out. Perhaps it was time he got what he deserved?_

Sirius lowered his voice. "Why don't you go find a long stick, prod the knot on the trunk, and _see for yourself_—unless you're too much of a _coward_, Snivelly."

Severus stood stock still, the impact of the riddle sinking in. A smirk flickered across Sirius's face.

_Never in a million years would that little scab have been sorted Gryffindor. Imagine if even a trace of Moony's howls reached his ears…_

The thought drained away some of Sirius's molten anger as he wheeled around and strode up the stairs. Glancing back from the first landing, he saw Snape deep in thought.

"You too, Mr. Snape," Madam Pomfrey ushered impatiently. "Be gone with you now!" She shooed him off. "It's time to report to your common room."

…

Attribution: Snape's line "You—wait" is lifted right out of the scene in Snape's Worst Memory/OotP. I liked using similar dialog here.


	2. Chapter 2

**You Did—What?**

"_I told you to shut up about my dad!" Harry yelled. "I know the truth, all right? You wouldn't even be here if it weren't for my dad!"_

"_I would hate for you to run away with a false idea of your father, Potter," Snape said, a terrible grin twisting his face. "Have you been imagining some act of glorious heroism? Then let me correct you—" _

—_Prisoner of Azkaban_

…

It wasn't as though James wasn't used to serving detention by now, but to be cooped up in the Potion's dungeon on full moon night was unbearable. They were supposed to be accompanying Remus.

What kind of friends were they if they couldn't help lessen the misery of full moon? It was never a good idea to leave Moony alone for very long; even Madam Pomfrey was no match for healing the cursed wounds of a werewolf.

'Clink!'— Slughorn's quill dipped into the glass inkpot on his desk again. He scratched a mark across the student parchment in his hands, let the scroll snap back into a roll, and then placed it on the left corner of his desk with the completed others. He paused before pulling a fresh assignment and peered up at James with pale eyes. His bushy mustache twitched—left, right—in indecision. James knew Sluggy didn't trust him, which seemed ironic since it was Sluggy's own house which had a reputation for harboring the untrustworthy.

Slughorn scraped his winged armchair back from his desk, ambled toward the door, and after aiming a browbeating glance back at James, slipped out of the Potions classroom. James listened closely to the sound of the old walrus's footsteps fading away down the hall…

His stomach did a barrel roll over the sudden liberty. It was time to get a handle on the situation: He pulled out his two-way mirror for a conference with Sirius.

"Padfoot."

No answer.

"Padfoot, you hairy dog, pick up your mirror."

Black fabric swirled on glass, the creases of someone's fingers appeared, and—

A pair of grey eyes and a waggish grin entered the frame. "A little more respect, please," said Sirius.

James grinned back before slipping into a frown. "This rots. Double detention on full moon night thanks to Snivelly."

"Couldn't agree with you more."

"M'a bit worried about Moony, are you?" asked James and the warm gold of his hazel eyes expanded around the inclusions of green.

Sirius nodded agreement. "Hope he doesn't go too rough on himself before we arrive."

James caught sight of a high ceiling over Sirius's head. "Where are you? You in detention yet?" he asked.

"Nope, I'm in the Entrance Hall," said Sirius. "Just about to head up to the Hospital Wing. Pomfers had to escort Moony to the Willow first. You?"

Flashing a grimace, James held up a hand stained yellow from shelling snails. "Sluggy put me straight to work, podgy git."

A grin flitted across Sirius's face, prodding the lines of his cheeks upwards. "That color looks good on you, Prongs." James permitted the ribbing. "But if you're calling me," continued Sirius, "why aren't you using magic?" His brows plunged quizzically.

_Well spotted, Padfoot. _The boys had learned long ago that it paid to have one of your mates' wands stashed in your sock for detentions. The wand, of course, could only be used if left unsupervised—and Slughorn rarely trusted him enough for that.

"Moony said he'd already loaned his to _you_."

"Mm, he did." Sirius's head bobbed in affirmation.

"Tosser," James muttered perfunctorily before rambling on, "And I didn't see Peter at dinner. Bad luck there, cuz Sluggy hauled me off right after that. Barely had time to finish eating."

"Five galleons says he's—"

But whatever Sirius had been about to wager, James didn't find out. Instead, Sirius's shaggy head whipped around as if he'd been discovered using the mirror. James's view flashed back to the dark interior of Sirius's robe pocket. Peeling his ears, James heard Sirius using polite tones... _A teacher, perhaps?_

Moments and another kaleidoscopic swirl of fabric later, Sirius's pale skin and shaggy fringe reappeared. He lowered his voice to a murmur: "Pomfrey. Heading back upstairs. She must've just escorted Moony to the Willow. I told her I'd be right up."

James nodded resignedly. If they hurried and finished their detentions, with any luck they might be able to join Remus before he'd excessively bitten and scratched himself. That was the real reason they'd become Animagi after all.

"I'd better go," sighed Sirius.

James was about to return the farewell and stow his mirror when Padfoot's head whipped around once again; a torch in the background flickered as though caught in a sudden breeze.

"_What the Snidget?_" Sirius hissed. The corner of his eye narrowed in a crease.

"Huh?" questioned James. _Was Pomfrey back?_

Before James had received an answer, his view obscured. _Bugger!_ The mirrors were utterly faint when not being spoken into directly and James hated trying to listen from the muffled station of a pocket. Yet he felt compelled to hear what had prompted such a tone from Sirius. He held his mirror to his ear hoping to catch snatches of whatever was going on.

"—_doing outside, Snivellus?" _

_Snivellus? _James's face wrinkled in loathing. _Outside?_ _But hadn't Pomfrey and Moony just…_

"_I warned you—greasy little Pogrebin!"_

A wedge of light hit the mirror as Sirius's hand dove into his pocket. Skin whisked past glass and a wooden rod flashed by in a jumble… Whatever hex Sirius was about to cast on the lurking menace, James hoped he'd make it a good one.

But the wand plunged back in, and before the pocket went dim again, James caught sight of a taut white knuckle at the edge of the frame.

Pomfrey's voice pealed…_ "detention"… "dueling!"_

The clap of footsteps in the near corridor suddenly competed in James's ear with the din of the eavesdropping.

"HmmHmmHmmm…" Jovial humming joined the sound of feet…_ Slughorn! _

James lurched, nearly dropping the mirror just as Slughorn rounded the doorframe, clad in a purple dressing gown and gold-tasseled cap, a goblet of wine in one hand, a book and a box of chocolates in the other. Fortunately, Sluggy's eye had been trained on the precious meniscus of the nearly-full goblet, giving James enough time to slide the illicit mirror behind the pile of snails where its wooden frame blended in; he flopped a few on top for good measure.

The sudden motion caught Slughorn's eye, however, and the old professor cast him a suspicious glare. James willed a look of innocence onto his face, nonchalantly plucked up a fresh snail, and crushed it under his palm. Bile-colored juices squished out. He began peeling away the mosaic bits of shell.

Slughorn settled himself back into his armchair, sprung open the box of confections, and resumed his marking.

_This is worse than Azkaban_, James decided.

_What had transpired up in the Entrance Hall?_ There had almost been a duel, it seemed. _So what about Snape? Was he in detention now too?_ James hoped Pomfrey had doled it out, though he certainly didn't wish it upon Sirius to have to spend the night with that slimy duck.

And more importantly, what had Snape been doing _outside_? _Could he have seen Moony with the nurse? _This incessant lurking was getting too close for comfort…

James glanced at his grandfather's old planispheric watch: His eyelids slid closed and he metered out a sigh—a whole nother hour to go. He needed an excuse to get away from the Slug so he could talk to Sirius again—a trip to the bathroom, perhaps? But he'd already gone earlier… Did he dare claim he was sick and needed to see the nurse?

Slughorn's podgy hand rummaged among the fluted paper wrappers of the confection box. James chanced a glance at the front desk: Slughorn was prodding chocolates around to access the bottom layer, where he picked out a fresh one, took a bite, and frowned. James faced forward again before Slughorn caught him spying.

A moment later, Slughorn cleared his throat and fixed James with a protuberant gooseberry stare. "I shall be right back. Please do not test my patience with any funny business while I'm away, Mr. Potter." He blinked his watery eyes.

James gave a solemn nod.

Thank goodness Sluggy had exacting standards in confections. James didn't even wait for the fading of footsteps this time to snatch up the mirror.

"Sirius!"

James's own hazel-eyed reflection stared back. A sense of urgency welled in his chest.

"Sirius!" he called again.

Moving lips appeared: Sirius's lips. "Shhhh… Pomfrey will have my head!"

The familiar sight of Sirius assuaged James. Finally, he'd get some answers! Padfoot would have things under control. Padfoot always had things under control.

"What just happened with Snivellus?" James frowned.

Sirius heaved a bitter sigh. White skin stretched across the straight line of his jawbone as he spoke. "The little scab came in from outside right after Pomfrey took Moony to the Willow."

"Blimey, that's what I thought. So he _saw_?" Resentment welled up inside James. He had, indeed, heard correctly then.

Sirius nodded in the affirmative.

"So what happened then? He get detention?"

Sirius answered the second question first, a deep smolder in his eye as he shook his head 'no'.

James swore. "That git got off? We're in here and he's—?" But his sense of outrage was cut short by more pressing questions, namely those which Sirius hadn't answered. "Think he's figured it out?"

Sirius nodded again. "I think he did, James," he replied heavily. "He said something about the full moon." James's chest wrung like a dishtowel.

"Where is he now then? Hopefully not back in Slytherin?"

Snape simply _loved_ the Dark Arts. And he _hated_ the four of them. Nothing would give him more pleasure than to divulge a secret like this…

To the whole school.

"Wish I could get in there," railed James. "S'just down the hall. I'd go wallop him myself." They had to protect Moony's secret… but how? Or was it too late aready?

Sirius offered up a wry smirk of encouragement. "I don't think he's back in Slytherin just _yet_. And there's hope on the walloping…"

"What do you mean?" asked James, puzzled but uplifted. _See, Sirius has it under control._

"Well, he asked me, 'Where does the hole under the Willow go?'"

_This didn't sound good at all…_

James's brows twisted and his pulse quickened. "What did you tell him?"

Sirius's face flickered into a smirk. "I told him to go find a long stick, prod the knot on the trunk 'n' see for himself."

_How could that…? _James's eyes strobed open.

"You did—what?" he asked, very slowly, his mouth suddenly going dry.

"I told him to prod the knot," Sirius reiterated coolly, but there was fire at the back of his eyes.

On any given day, James could interpret the subtlest wave of Sirius's hand, the slightest arch of a brow, a fraction of a gesture; they were in synch on every decision. Yet for once, he felt like he was spectacularly missing the point: Why on earth would Sirius send Snape down the tunnel?

"Why—would you—?" James began.

"Oh come on, James, don't get all sanctimonious on me now. It's bloody Snivellus we're talking about. Serves him right for—"

James's face was pale and drawn, he could feel it. And he could muster no other expression.

Sirius changed tack. "Besides, as soon as he hears one howl out of Moony, he'll drop a load in his pants and start racing back to the Willow. Now that I think about it—" Sirius tilted his chin upward musingly and cracked a smirk, "—I'm a little sad I won't be there to see that."

James swallowed the lump in his throat and looked away.

Sirius chuckled nervously as he glanced back into the glass and caught James's unyielding expression. "C'mon, if he's really so bloody clever as to have figured it out, why would he go _looking_ for a werewolf?"

"Because he's obsessed with the bloody Dark Arts?" James's voice began to rise.

James saw a wisp of doubt flash through Sirius's laboradorite grey eyes just before Sirius threw a glance over his shoulder. "Fuck! Pomfrey…"

'_I've set out a hundred more sterile vials for you to fill,_' James heard Pomfrey intone in a fuzz of words that floated into his brain. _'Please do not spill a drop.'_

Then the sights and sounds of the mirror snuffed out.


	3. Chapter 3

**Some Act of Glorious Heroism **

"_I heard what happened the other night. You went sneaking down that tunnel by the Whomping Willow and James Potter saved you from whatever's down there—"_

_Snape's whole face contorted and he spluttered, "Saved? Saved? You think he was playing the hero? He was saving his neck and his friends' too!"_

—_Deathly Hallows _

…

Pomfrey's voice was still ringing in James's ears—'_Please do not spill a drop'_—as his gaze fell to the half-shelled pile of snails lying on the tabletop. They bore an odd resemblance to Snape: cold, yellow, and full of bile…

_But he isn't a snail._

_He's human, flesh and blood._

_And Sirius just told him how to gain access to a werewolf._

James's eyes traced over the polychromatic pool of residue swirling on the black laboratory tabletop.

_Will he really take Sirius's advice and try to get into the tunnel?_

_Can there be any doubt of it? He followed us so deliberately this winter that he once caught us all suspiciously gathered around the hump of the One-Eyed Witch._

James's brain registered an image of the sallow-skinned Snape, slinking down the tunnel, his wand held aloft, rapt face illuminated in its glow, en route to finally discovering their closely-guarded secret.

_What if he gets all the way to the house? What if he meets Moony, ears flattened, lips turned back, teeth bared in a snarl?_

_Crikey…_

James hadn't even noticed that he was still holding the mirror up to his face when a shuffle in the corridor broke through his racing thoughts. Slughorn rounded the corner again, floating an ottoman in front of him at wand point and carrying a replacement box of elaborately-wrapped confections in his other hand; he stopped dead three feet inside the doorway when he caught sight of James.

His eyes fell to the mirror in James's hand. "Boy, how many times do I have to tell you to _shell_? Not play with your hair—_shell!_" Color rose in his normally-jovial cheeks. James stood frozen, too stunned to feign this time.

With a hefty sigh that fluttered the tails of his ginger mustache, Slughorn proceeded to his desk as though determined not to concede his entire evening to disciplining an incorrigible hooligan. Before he'd reached it, however, James's eyes locked on the doorway…

_You need to escape. Run—NOW! Run before he turns around!_

His chucks squelched tellingly in Filch's fresh polish as he pivoted away from the lab desk—Slughorn's back was still turned as he rocketed through the doorway.

"WHERE ARE YOU _GOING, BOY_?" Slughorn shouted after him.

James didn't spare a look back. He only hoped Slughorn wouldn't have a clear shot at his back to immobilize him before he reached the stairwell. _Consequences, later!_

The torches guttered in his wake as he sprinted down the dungeon corridor, faster than even Peeves could have pursued him, fringe pinned back, feet smacking out a rhythm on the flagstones... He cut an arc around the last corner and leapt into the stairwell just as Slughorn popped into the hallway and bellowed out a futile, "GET BACK HERE, POTTER!"

The imperative echoed after him as he scampered up four flights of stairs and bolted through the deserted entrance hall where Sirius had earlier spoken to him in the mirror. That conversation seemed an age ago. An age he now had to make up for. Barely breaking speed, palms bracing wood, he threw open the great oak doors and burst into the cool evening air.

Out on the Hogwarts' grounds, dusk was beginning to swirl its grey cloak over the horizon; only the glow of warm yellow light from the high West Tower and the milky white moon held it at bay as James ran down the sloping lawns.

_Snape musn't reach the Shack! How far ahead can he be? _

His chest pitched urgently ahead of his legs as his body gained speed. Crickets shrilled, thick spring grass sprung underfoot, and his pulse throbbed in his ears as he dashed across the lawn.

_Fuck, Sirius…Why'd-ya-do-it? Why'd-ya-do-it? Why'd-ya-do-it? _ran through his head.

_You should have known Snape would try to get in, the idiot! _

Within strides, the Whomping Willow loomed into sight, a quiet skeleton of branches weeping in the waning light. _No sign of Snape—he must be inside the tunnel already! I've no time to prod the knot! _James instinctively dove, headfirst, toward the hole in the roots, hoping to evade the slumbering branches before they came to life…

His rib cage skidded across the grass, his upper torso dashed down the hole, followed by his waist, and a celebratory cheer flashed through his brain: _I've made it!_ _I've managed to sneak through!_

But this thought was interrupted by an abrupt yank on his robe where it harnessed his shoulders. _What the—?_ A tear rent the air. _Ack_—the hem had snagged on a root! He wriggled and kicked furiously as the trunk groaned to life, his feet sticking up like an umbrella in a stand.

The sound of a whip sliced the air. SSSSTHWOOOOOOOOOOOOP!

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOF! A spiky node lambasted his foot like a Medieval flail.

_OWWWWW!_

With one last urgent push to tear his robe free, he heaved himself face first onto the floor of the tunnel. Bits of gravel stung his skin and his nostrils inhaled the thick scent of moldering leaves as he landed in a mulch pile at the base of the roots. He crawled along on all fours, the gravel stabbing him in his bony knees and fleshy palms, until the flood of moonlight from the entrance ran out.

It was then that he remembered he had—_no wand!_

_Balls!_ He couldn't see the hand in front of his face… How would he get down the tunnel at this rate? And survive an encounter with Snape?

It didn't matter—he'd have to think on his feet. Wand or no wand, he couldn't turn back now—not on Snape's life.

He blinked into the darkness—_Is it safe to stand?—_and scuttled to his feet; his head grazed the ceiling. He set off at a compromised run, back severely bent, trailing his fingers along the rough ceiling above to prevent smashing his head…

He blundered through the tunnel's first few twists and turns, his shoulder scraping the side wall each time he failed to anticipate a new one, but he didn't dare slow down. And when the ceiling dipped low, constricting the way, he ducked back onto his hands and knees, crawling until some sixth sense or a quick reach up told him it was safe to stand again. In the pitch darkness, under the coursing of his own adrenaline, his senses seemed to funnel every touch, smell, and sound into his brain: the acoustics of his breath resonating against the earthen walls, the sound of pebbles clacking together underfoot and emitting the occasional spark, the uneven curvature of the floor…

_Where is he—? Where is he—? Where is he—?_

Trailing his fingers along the craggy ceiling, still bent double, his body was begging him to slow down. A stitch skewered his side and salt began to sting his eyes in the thickly humid air...

He'd followed this tunnel plenty of times before with his friends. Padfoot had always trotted along in the lead, acting as a bodyguard. Peter either rode on the black dog's furry back or scampered along at its feet. Meanwhile, he, James, brought up the rear, always in his human form because his antlers wouldn't fit. Or, as Sirius took delight in putting it, 'Prongs's head's too big for the tunnel.'

'You try slinking down the tunnel with a chandelier mounted to your head,' had been his rebuttal.

Partly for his sake, it'd been months since they'd last used the tunnel. More recently, they'd taken to gamboling to the shack via the forest. This had in turn led to their convincing Moony that he, too, needed to run wild and free with them—"It'll make the time pass by far more quickly. Think of how ace it'll be! You'll be _harmless_—you'll be with _us_."

And of course, the passage from the One-Eyed Witch to Honeydukes still served them well on nights they dared not tempt Filch by descending any lower into the castle from Gryffindor Tower than the second floor.

No matter the route, it had always been a short jaunt with friends. Laughter had made the time pass quickly. Tonight, it felt interminable.

James's mind raced ahead to the gap in the floorboards, the gap by which they would slip into the old parlor. The old parlor, where they'd passed many a wee hour sparring or simply bringing a raging Moony under control. A control they'd become so confident in over time, it had clinched their argument that Remus would be harmless outside the confines of the old house.

James's mind raced ahead to the gap in the floorboards, the gap through which a shaft of light spilled down, the gap at which Snape would arrive first if he, James, failed to overtake him…

_Had Moony barricaded it before transforming, as Nurse Pomfrey had initially instructed him back in first year, and as was his cautious habit?_

'_Which way will you lot be coming?' Remus asked._

'_Forest,' Sirius answered simply. 'It'll be late. We'll want to get there quickly.' _

'_Thanks,' Moony replied with that little arched half-smile. _

_Fuck, Sirius…Why'd-ya-do-it? Why'd-ya-do-it? Why'd-ya-do-it? _refrained anew in James's head.

James's fingers rasped over a serrated patch of rock, the ceiling flared, and the tunnel's blackness unexpectedly thinned to charcoal grey. He rounded yet another bend and beheld—light!—illuminating the curved walls ahead. Against its glow, embedded cobbles jutted out from the ceiling in sharp relief, shadows toothed long, but at the center, a living darkness shifted and moved: The black fabric of a robe… a figure bent double… an arched backbone. _Snape!_

James broke step and flattened himself against the wall.

_Make the right move, James. You're unarmed. Make the right move. He'll not spare curses on you._

In the flash of an instant, James caught a glimpse of Snape: A lank drape of hair obscured his face and he held his wand out in front of him in a posture of extreme investigation; _Lumos _shone from the tip as he skulked cautiously upwards. _Upwards..._ His head and shoulders edged around the eclipsing corner, then his skinny hips. _Upwards…_

Suddenly James realized Snape was ascending the final rise to the gap in the floor. It was as though he were watching the Quaffle slide through Gryffindor's rings from a helpless position at midfield…

"DON'T!" he shouted, his voice resonating off the narrow walls, all intentions of ambush forgotten.

A fleeting moment of silence rang out in its wake. Then Snape's feet scuffled and a volley of red sparks ricocheted down the passageway—James just barely managed to dodge them by flattening himself further into the wall.

"BACK OFF, POTTER! YOU'RE TOO LATE!"

"TOO LATE FOR _WHAT_? _CUT IT OUT!_" James shouted back around the corner.

"TOO LATE TO STOP ME FROM FIGURING OUT YOUR LITTLE DISAPPEARING ACT!"

"IT'S NOT AN ACT! YOU'VE NO BUSINESS HERE!"

"AND _YOU_ DO?"

_Bastard! _

_Idiot!_

_Take him down. You don't need a wand—just quick reflexes. Take him down, Potter. Think on your feet._

James scooped up a handful of gravel from the tunnel floor and sprinted around the final bend in a fury. In the split second he rounded it—before he'd even fully registered the sight of Snape—he beamed the rocks into his face, unleashing them with all the force of a game-winning Quaffle.

They struck full on the mark above Snape's beaky nose. Snape let out a roar, averted his eyes, tried to turn and run, but James lunged and snatched the hood of his robe, yanking him back so fiercely Severus came toppling into him.

"YOU IDIOT! THIS ISN'T A GAME ANYMORE!"

Snape let out a venomous choke and twisted himself around, still tethered by his own robes as James heaved him into the wall of the tunnel. Snape's whole face squinched in fury as he tried to fight him off.

_Snatch the wand, James. _

They wrestled so close to the house now that the light flooding out the crack in the floorboards set the left sleeve of their robes aglow as they contorted against each other.

"Come—off—it!" James panted, surprised at how forcefully the Slytherin writhed—like an animal in the throes of death. Snape's hot breath and hair swiped his cheeks; his knees punched out, trying to make contact with his groin.

James pinned a forearm across Snape's windpipe and levered himself off the opposite wall to overpower him as he tried to extend his reach down Snape's sinewy arm… He needed the wand… His fingers groped along Snape's outstretched wrist—then his closed first—and contorting knuckles—

_ARROOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!_ A howl broke the air, freezing them both in place.

The hairs on the back of James's neck prickled.

Massive paws pounded down the stairs—

A shot of adrenaline hit James's veins.

Nails clicked across the floorboards—

Coming closer— and closer—

Snape's eyes darted over James's shoulder to the hole. James's head spun and—

A werewolf's muzzle sniffed at the narrow gap in the floor, its snout wrinkling at the tip; James could have counted the lines. Standing so near, in the flesh, his nerves shriveled, little assured that Moony couldn't get at them.

_He smells prey at hand. He could smash that dresser to pieces if he wanted to. You've seen what he's capable of._

After three twitches of its snout, the wolf's grizzled lips curled back over its fangs and a slow growl tickled the air.

James turned back to Snape, whose eyes had gone wide, pupils dilated, irises glittering with a mixture of fear and excitement. In the split second they met James's, Snape's upper lip curled revoltingly into a trace of a smile. Incensed, James made a final lunge to grab the wand—and this time his fingers snatched wood!

He wielded the point at Severus's face and shouted, "_Petrificus Totalus!_"

Expression frozen, Snape slumped rigidly onto the floor of the tunnel.

The wolf growled again in a low, deadly twinge, pulling James's attention back: He pivoted and fired off a powerful Stinging Hex, causing the wolf to yip and flee. At the moment, James didn't have any emotion left to feel sorry for his friend. With a second wand flick, he quickly mended the floorboards shut and the tunnel snuffed into darkness around him.

Panting, chest heaving as though it might burst, James slumped against the sidewall, slowly relaxing his grip on the wand. His nerves were shattered, his body blown, the image of Moony's growling snout still etched behind his eyes. Above him in the house, he could hear the wolf howling and tossing furniture in a rage. Something landed with a spectacular crash on the wooden floor above his head.

Cloistered in the pitch darkness, James could feel the throb of his pulse as his body tried to circulate oxygen as fast as he'd been consuming it. His mind raced with an excess of thoughts—but it was the lump pressing into his toes on the cramped floor space that quickly recaptured his attention: _Snape, lying at his feet._

He'd just seen Moony in the fur. A secret they'd kept so vigilantly, a secret that meant the world to his friend, was out of their safe-keeping and had fallen into the worst hands.

The meddling idiot could have _died_. Yet here he was, alive, and only temporarily petrified. James couldn't deny feeling relieved about the 'alive' part, even though there was nothing he actually liked about Severus. The 'temporarily petrified' boded decidedly ill; it meant Snape would have to return to the castle eventually…

_You have to take him back, James. You can't just leave him here. _

_And do what—deliver him to Slughorn or McGonagall? Bring him up to the hospital wing for Sirius and Pomfrey to deal with?_

_If I deliver him to a teacher, maybe they'll forbid him to tell anyone? But if I deliver him to a teacher, they'll find out what Sirius did—_

Every prank they'd ever pulled suddenly seemed like a petty misdeed compared to this. James wanted nothing more than to go back to the Great Hall, start the night over again, spoon the very same apple crumble onto his plate that he'd been dishing out when Slughorn had hauled him off. He'd gladly serve a tedious detention in the Potion's dungeon shelling snails while Moony inflicted himself with a few good wounds that Pomfrey would clean and they could later help him cover up or invent excuses for.

James ran a hand through his hair and slumped further down the wall to sit on his haunches and think about what to do next, but as quickly as he'd done it, he pulled himself back up to his feet. He felt no shred of enthusiasm for the task at hand, but it had to be done. He lit the wand and panned it over Snape's face: He was laying sideways, his hair webbing across his pocked skin, his huge conk of a nose protruding between greasy strands. Then James spied that frozen curl of lip again, the twisted little victory smile he'd donned at the sight of Moony. _Was it satisfaction at having found them out—or simply his morbid fascination with the Dark Arts?_

It didn't much matter: Moony would be devastated.

_Fuck, Sirius…Why'd-ya-do-it? Why'd-ya-do-it? Why'd-ya-do-it?_

Using a silent _Levicorpus_, James floated Severus up off the floor and began conducting him down the tunnel in front of him. He focused purely on navigation at first, but it wasn't long before the implications of what had just transpired came swarming back into his head.

_Is Snape the guilty one for coming here? Or is Sirius for telling him how?_

A shred of conversation floated back to James:

_'C'mon, if he's really so bloody clever as to have figured it out, why would he go looking for a werewolf?'_

_'Because he's obsessed with the bloody Dark Arts?'_

_No matter what happens, I'll stick by Sirius, _James resolved.

_But what if Sirius gets __expelled__…?_

_Bloody hell…_

James didn't even want to _be_ at Hogwarts without Sirius. They'd quickly become best mates ever since they'd met that first day on the train—a matched pair, right down their black hair and senses of mischief. He couldn't imagine donning a set of dragonhide gloves in Herbology with anyone else. They'd learned to duel together… played on the Quidditch team together since second year… mastered the wandless magic of the Animagus transformation…

It would be miserable without Padfoot. James suddenly pictured asking his parents to hire them a tutor. At least they'd be together, together as exiles. Could they be happy without Hogwarts? And all that came with it—feasts, friends, Quidditch, a common room, a convoluted castle, girls…?

Abruptly, James rounded the last corner of the tunnel and spied the shaft of moonlight pouring down the hole at the base of the Willow. For the first time in very many steps, James became aware of his surroundings again: He heard the crunch of his feet on the bits of gravel, heard the faint sounds of night just yards away, saw the eerie glow of the moon illuminating the twisted roots in a way that made them appear as some grotesque animal, bony and edged in shadows…

He temporarily set Snape down by wand on the floor of the tunnel as he climbed out. As his hands grasped the exposed roots, the moon's glow blanched his skin, and the pain in his ribs and his shoulder suddenly became apparent. Before he'd fully pressed himself out of the hole and placed his feet back on grassy earth, he reached up to press the knot.

The tree moved before his hand touched it—not in its usual violent thrash, but softly and rhythmically as something landed in its branches above.

"TRRRRRREEEEEEEEEYYYYYYYYY…TTTRRRRRRREEEEEEEEWWWWWW"

An otherworldly cooing trickled into his ears. Scarlet and gold wings flashed with mythical softness as Fawkes took perch, wrapping his talons on a low branch. All the while, the normally cantankerous tree rested idle.

James stared in awe. The phoenix's golden eyes settled on him as though propagating a message into his brain.

"Dumbledore's Office?" James asked quietly.

Fawkes softly ruffled his wings.

…

Attribution: James's mental musing, _'Run—NOW!' _is from the graveyard scene in _Goblet of Fire_. I sometimes like to try to give echoes of canon when writing missing moments.

A/N: Reviews are always appreciated! These stories take a long time to write and it means a lot to hear they were enjoyed.


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